A Woman's Touch

garage.
    Rebecca obeyed and switched off the engine. „You must be freezing in those wet clothes.“
    „The thrill of your driving kept me warm.“ Kyle pushed open his door. „But now that you bring up the subject, I realize you’re right. I’m freezing. I need a hot shower and a glass of brandy. Let’s get into the house before I also need treatment for hypothermia.“
    He held out his hands for his keys as they hurried up the front steps. Rebecca hesitated and then handed them over to him. Later she would figure out how she was going to get back to the motel.
    „You pour the brandy,“ Kyle said as he opened the front door and ushered her into the living room. „It’s over there by the fireplace. I’m going to get out of these clothes.“ He yanked at the buttons of his wet shirt. „Be back in a few minutes.“
    Rebecca watched him stride down the hall, peeling off his shirt as he went. He certainly didn’t seem nearly as upset about the dunking as she would have expected. But, then, that was probably because Kyle figured he’d won the confrontation with Glen Ballard. He’d gotten what he wanted. Rebecca had gone home with him.
    Shaking her head ruefully, Rebecca crossed the room to the mahogany table beside the fireplace. The brandy glasses were fashioned of beautifully cut crystal, she noted. They looked old. And the brandy was about as old as the crystal, according to the label.
    The glasses were the only touch of elegance or luxury in the room. She wondered if they had been wedding gifts that Martha Stockbridge had left behind when she had fled.
    Everything else in the place looked heavy, masculine, functional and cold. It was a man’s room, with no touch of softness or charm to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. Rebecca tried to imagine what effect a house like this would have had on a young, motherless boy. There had been no softness in Kyle’s life, Alice Cork had written. Kyle had been raised by a hard, bitter, withdrawn man, a man who would have scorned a woman’s touch.
    Kyle returned less than fifteen minutes later, buttoning a fresh shirt as he came down the hall. There was an exuberance in his stride that told its own story. It was clear he had the rest of the evening planned.
    „The Stockbridge luck seems to be running true to form again, I take it?“ Rebecca asked speculatively as she handed him a glass of brandy.
    „Stockbridge luck beats Ballard charm any day of the week.“ He took a swallow of the brandy.
    „Except when it comes to women,“ she reminded him smoothly. He eyed her over the rim of the glass. „Did you love her very much, Kyle?“
    He looked blank. „Who?“
    Rebecca frowned. „Darla.“
    „Oh, Darla.“ He made a dismissing gesture with one hand. „I told you about her. It’s ancient history.“
    „So is the Stockbridge-Ballard feud, but it still persists.“
    Kyle’s gaze grew sharp and speculative. „Are you jealous, Becky?“ he asked suddenly.
    „I’m curious, that’s all.“ She turned away and walked over to stand in front of the cold fireplace.
    „You are jealous.“ Kyle spoke with satisfaction as he set down his brandy glass and went down on one knee to build a fire.
    „No, damn it. I am not jealous!“
    „Forget Darla,“ Kyle broke in crisply as he adjusted kindling. „I’m not carrying the torch. I’ll admit I was a tad upset when she picked Ballard to run off with, but I’m over it.“ He grinned and waved a long fireplace match aloft. „You’re the only one who lights a fire under me, baby.“

    „You asked her to marry you.“
    „That was four long years ago.“ He glanced up and saw the assessing look in her eyes. „Hey,“ Kyle said softly as he finished lighting the fire and got to his feet. „What’s the problem here?“
    „I told you. I’m curious. That’s all.“
    He caught her shoulders, the indulgent humor fading from his face. „I’ve told you about Darla. She’s not important any longer.“
    „She says you might not have even noticed the engagement had ended if it hadn’t been for the fact that Ballard was waiting in the wings. A Stockbridge can’t stand to lose anything to a Ballard.“
    „True enough,“ he said with a sigh. „But I got even. I’m satisfied on that score.“
    „Did you really make a scene at their wedding?“ After all she had learned about this man, that sort of audacity was still enough to amaze her.
    Kyle shook his head reminiscingly and ignored the question. „You know,